


Walking Tall

by verucasalt123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Gen, bad words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finally gives in to his instinct when he sees another kid being bullied at school.<br/>A/N: written for .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking Tall

Over the past eleven years, Sam had attended nineteen schools, not including kindergarten. 

He’d never had any trouble in school, socially. Maybe because he never stuck around long enough for anyone to get to know him. Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t be there long so he was loathe to make friends he was just going to lose in a few weeks or months. Maybe because he tried so hard to stay _under the radar_ due to their lifestyle and the ever-present possibility of child protective services pouncing on their family. 

Of course, it could have just been because, until recently, no matter where they were temporarily hunkering down, everyone knew Sam was Dean Winchester’s little brother. There was no kid in any school, anywhere, for any reason, who wanted to mess with Dean Winchester’s little brother. No threat had ever been made, there had never been any overt display to illustrate why this would be a bad idea, it was just… _implied_. Dean was intimidating even when he was too young to know how to spell ‘intimidating’. And he looked after Sam with dedication. Two plus two and all that. Seemed like the other kids just figured it out. 

Sam had, however, seen just as much bullying and ugliness as any other kid. Walking past it like he didn’t notice was one of the hardest things he ever had to do in school. It went against everything he believed in, scraped across the instinctive feeling that it was _wrong_ to let someone else get hurt and just ignore it. 

There was such a precarious balance, though. He didn’t want to make a scene. Draw attention to himself. His father had instilled the worst-case scenario in his brain for so many years. 

People will come sniffing around here, Sam. 

They won’t like what they see, Sam.

Someone could take you away from me, Sam.

_The authorities could separate you from Dean, Sam._

That one was the trump card, the one Dad always pulled from the bottom of the deck when he needed to really scare Sam into making himself invisible. Or out of trying out for the track team. Or whatever else he wanted Sam to do or not do. And it worked every time.

He knew it was all true, and that of course any sensible social worker or school official would take one look at the way they lived and yank these two boys away from their father in a hot second. And it’s not like John wasn’t only afraid for his kids, he had his own reasons for wanting to avoid the scrutiny of law enforcement. 

So every time he saw it or heard it, he just kept going. All he could imagine was getting involved, jumping into the middle of something and then having the principal show up. Getting called into the office. Being asked how a kid his age knew how to break someone’s nose or snap someone’s wrist. Having it found out that he’d been left in the care of his underaged brother for weeks at a time. A warrant out for John’s arrest, Dean and Sam taken away in separate cars to separate foster homes where they’d never see each other again. 

He hated himself for it, but he did it anyway.

Until the fall of his junior year at Insert Random Dead President’s Name Here High School in Stupid Cold Town, Michigan. There was this kid in his chemistry class that he’d gotten partnered with in a couple of labs. Nice kid, small for his age, like Sam used to be until he was fourteen or so. Unfortunately given the family name of Harrison even though his last name was Johnson. No matter what the boy said, no one ever called him Harrison. Not even just Harry. He was Harry Johnson from the time the other boys in his class realized it was funny to say “Harry Johnson”, and he was tormented constantly. 

Now, Sam wasn’t saying there wasn’t a time in his life when he wouldn’t have totally laughed at someone being called Harry Johnson. It wasn’t like he was all that different than other boys in most ways. But he was sixteen now, and he guessed the life he’d led had made him maybe a little more mature than the other kids. 

Sam called the boy Harrison, on the rare occasions that they spoke. 

Not that it made a difference. The other kids teased him, dumped milk on his lunch tray, taped obscene sketches to the door of his locker, pushed him so he’d drop his books on the floor. 

Every day he was there, Sam could feel his resolve to stay out of it slipping away.

Things were different now.

Dean was twenty years old, no one was going to say a word about a teenager left in the care of his adult older brother while their father traveled. Probably. 

And if he could keep his cool and not pull out any of the crazy hand to hand combat skills he knew, there wouldn’t be much trouble. Probably. 

Also, he was six feet tall now and bigger than most of the other kids in his class, so nothing physical had to happen anyway. Probably.

So on a Thursday in the middle of October when he entered the restroom and saw his occasional lab-partner desperately trying to get his coat back from two kids (one with crooked teeth, one with terrible acne, Sam didn’t know their names) who were determined to shove it into a toilet, Sam just threw in the ‘stay out of it’ towel.

“Hey!”

The two bullies stopped for a minute, a little shocked. Not many kids ever heard Sam speak, and certainly not in that kind of tone. 

He moved closer, trying to make his height difference a little more clear. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Of course, he was met with the expected response from acne-kid. “We’re just having a little fun with Harry Johnson here, what do you care?”

The other kid chimed in, “Yeah, what’s the big deal, _Stretch_?” with a laugh. Sam could only think how ridiculous it was for someone to think they could hurt his feelings by calling him names. Of course, the kid didn’t have any way of knowing that Sam killed werewolves on the weekends, so, there was that. 

“Oh, well, if it’s no big deal, why don’t you just give him his coat back?” Sam asked. Logical question. These kinds of kids didn’t do so well with those.

“Why don’t you _make_ us?” snarled the one with the crooked teeth.

Damn. Well, all right.

Sam reached his left hand out between crooked-teeth and acne-face, to draw their attention, then easy as you please, shot out his right hand and snatched Harrison’s coat into his own grasp.

“You guys were right, this is so totally not a big deal at all” Sam quipped, smiling at the bewildered looks that were being sent his way by all three of the other boys in the bathroom. He handed the coat back to its rightful owner, who was still just resting against the sink, in awe that someone would actually stick up for him.

With one fluid movement, Sam got a little closer to the offenders in question. He gave them his best imitation of Dean’s ‘don’t mess with me’ tone and said, “Leave him alone. You’re not getting a second chance” while looming over the shorter boys. 

For their part, the guys who’d thought they were so tough just seconds earlier were looking a little scared. 

Sam just turned around and made his way back into the hall, annoyed that he still had to pee. But the other kid followed him out. 

“What’d you do that for?” he asked. “I mean, thanks, I – I really appreciate it, but you hardly even know me.”

“Just got sick of watching other kids pick on you like that. You don’t know me, either. No one knows me. But I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anyone else.”

Harrison looked at him expectantly, like he was going to impart some kind of amazing knowledge. 

“You can’t tell me anyone ever bullied _you_ like that?”

Sam smiled. “Nope. But I can tell you that if I lost my coat, it wouldn’t be easy for my family to get me another one. Anyway, I hope this isn’t going to cause you any trouble. I just kind of lost my patience watching you get treated like that. The people who see it and don’t do anything about it, well, they might as well just be in on it too. And I didn’t want to be in on it. That’s all.”

By that time, the bell was ringing for the next class. Sam just walked away, maybe a little taller than he’d walked when he got there this morning.


End file.
